


Ruthari Week 2020

by beautifulterriblequeen



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Adventure, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Battle flashback, Battles are messy, Broken Bones, Dancing, Drama, Ethari has a secret, Ethari is a buff elf okay, Fade to Black, Falling off of cliffs, Fluff, Hot and Cold, How to earn Runaan's undying trust in three easy steps, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moonshadow dancing, Moonshadow powers are cool, Pain, Prince Runaan, Runaan retires, Runaan's hair, Time your suggestive comments better Ethari, dislocations, elves in corsets, first full moon but not in a werewolf way okay, formal wear, meditative, okay more angst, snuggles, soft, the one time Runaan and Ethari couldn't agree, thermal equilibrium, what's this there's science in my elf romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22140001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulterriblequeen/pseuds/beautifulterriblequeen
Summary: Ruthari Week 2020 Prompts:1 - Dancing/Moonlight2 - Glowing/Fading3 - Hurt/Comfort4 - Lost/Look Closely5 - Separation/Reunion6 - Light/Shadow7 - Jewelry/Formal Wear
Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 154





	1. We Fall Together

Runaan’s hand pressed warmly against Ethari’s as the dance began. They wore their best tunics for the Moonlight Fling, long and dark, with silver strands glinting in the soft moonlight that filtered down through the trees. Other couples slowly took their first dance steps around them. Runaan’s eyes settled on Ethari’s—calm, steady, warm as a sunset’s cheery glow—and he smiled. Ethari smiled back and bent one finger to caress the edge of Runaan’s hand.

_Ethari’s grip was iron around Runaan’s wrist as the assassin dangled over three hundred feet of empty air. His foot lost its hold, and he slipped another inch toward the edge of the precipice. A sprinkling of sand dusted its way down into Runaan’s hair. “I’m not letting go, Runaan.”_

_Runaan’s free hand drew a dagger from his belt. His turquoise gaze, so often as sharp as his blades, rose softly to meet Ethari’s. “Don’t worry. I’ll let go first.”_

Runaan and Ethari stepped close and turned their heads just enough to let their ear tips brush against one another’s while their fingers intertwined alongside their thighs. Their free hands joined over their heads, and after stepping away and then together again, they rested their other hands in the small of each other’s backs and spun together. Their eyes locked as they danced nose to nose. Ethari gently adjusted his fingers, sliding one inside Runaan’s long sleeve to soothe the bruise his hand had left around Runaan’s wrist, as if to say _I’m sorry I hurt you._

Runaan’s response was to squeeze Ethari’s hand tightly.

_Ethari let out a grating denial as Runaan lifted his dagger and placed it against his own wrist._

_“I’ll pull you over too, Ethari. Only one of us should die here.” His fingers flexed, and he began to press the dagger against his arm, ready to sacrifice it—and himself—for Ethari’s life._

_Ethari shook Runaan by his arm, disrupting Runaan’s slice before it could begin. “Runaan, I swear on the Moon itself, if you die here, I will throw myself after you.”_

_Runaan jerked his gaze upward, eyes soft and wide. “Ethari… I…”_

_But shaking Runaan also shook Ethari. The sturdy elf slid helplessly toward the edge of the cliff again, and this time, he couldn’t stop. Together, they fell._

They danced as they’d fallen—without touching, eyes on each other, spinning slowly as if time meant nothing and all the world were a dream. Every time Runaan turned again to face Ethari, his eyes sought him with a heady mix of trust and desperation. The _needing_ in him was so strong, yet he found it endlessly breathtaking that the _having_ matched it in both strength and bounty.

Finally, the dance let them touch again. Ethari’s hands caressed Runaan’s back and smoothed their way along his ponytail. Runaan took Ethari’s face in his hands and drew him into an alternate series of steps, smiling softly. Ethari’s dark brows lifted in pleased surprise, and he let Runaan lead the way.

_Their freefall was short-lived, with each trying to save the other. Runaan pushed off of Ethari in midair, driving him toward the cliff where he’d be sure to find a grip—and he did. But his action caromed him off into space, and Ethari shouted after him, reaching, straining, desperate to hold onto Runaan one last time._

_One hand caught the very tip of Runaan’s ponytail just as the other snagged another outcrop of rock. Runaan pendulumed below him with a cry as his hair took his full body weight._

_“Runaan! I’ve got you. Don’t you dare cut your hair to save me, do you hear me?”_

_“Ethari.” Runaan stopped his swinging by steadying his hand against Ethari’s boot. “You can’t save me. There’s nowhere to go but down.”_

_“Never tell a craftsman what he can’t do. That’s how the world gets changed.” Ethari grimaced and flexed sharply with a growl of effort, pulling Runaan upward. Runaan rose with another soft sound of surprise, and Ethari switched his grip from Runaan’s hair to the front of his tunic. He held the wiry, wide-eyed assassin against his chest, his tunic bunched in Ethari’s fist, and panted with effort. “When you land, don’t come back for me.” He pressed a hard, quick kiss against Runaan’s lips, flexed every muscle he had, and tossed Runaan onto the top of the outcrop he was hanging from._

Ethari spun after Runaan and caught him when Runaan twirled back into his arms. Runaan’s long white hair spilled across Ethari’s arm as he caught it around Runaan’s back, and Ethari smiled at its soft weight. Every strand in its glory, unsacrificed and intact. Their dance steps had shifted from those everyone else was doing, but they still held to the same rhythm. Others began noticing that Runaan had shifted the dance. Secret smiles ringed the gathering, and Ethari started to feel self-conscious.

Runaan drew Ethari’s attention back to him with a finger under his chin. His eyes silently asked if Ethari was ready for the finishing move in this particular dance sequence.

Ethari’s smile was as wide as the moonlit sky.

_“Ethari!” Runaan scrambled to the edge of the outcrop on hands and knees, heedless of his minor aches and pains—and Ethari’s warning—afraid he’d see his beloved tumbling into the distance far below._

_Instead, Ethari muscled his way into a two handed pull-up, wearing a fierce grin and a sheen of sweat. “A little help?” he said through a helpless chuckle. “I’m heavier than I look.”_

_Runaan put everything he had into pulling Ethari to safety, and they fell together atop the outcrop, locked tightly in each other’s arms, gasping._

_“I understand now,” Ethari said after he caught his breath. “That moment when you can choose between life and death.”_

_Runaan’s arms tightened. “You thought of letting go?”_

_Ethari’s smile shimmered in his words. “How could I? Everything I ever wanted is right here. I’d have moved the earth and the Moon to hold you again.”_

_Runaan gazed up into Ethari’s eyes and smiled softly. “I think you did.”_

The other dancing couples drew back to give Runaan and Ethari just a bit more room for their finale. They didn’t have to know _why_ Runaan had decided to trust Ethari with his life. All they knew was that Runaan was expressing their new milestone through dance, in public, for everyone to see, and they’d honor it for the tribute it was.

The assassin and the craftsman danced in one final circle, fingertips brushing, and then Ethari took Runaan’s hand and set him into a twirl. His ponytail whirled after him, wide and white, catching the moonlight. Ethari withdrew his hand just as Runaan closed his eyes and arched his back, and Ethari caught him gently by the back of his neck, stepping into a deep, slow lunge beside him, easing Runaan down into a graceful, arching dip until his entire ponytail puddled on the grass beneath him.

With his eyes still shut, Runaan caressed Ethari’s cheek with his near hand. When his eyes opened, he found his beloved’s eyes without effort. A broad smile bursting with love brightened his face, and he pressed his thumb against Ethari’s lips for a quick kiss.

Ethari went entirely breathless at the sight of this beautiful assassin who had given his life into his hands—literally and artistically. He straightened and slowly lifted Runaan back to his feet, pulling him into his arms for a tight hug. The other elves cheered, whistled, and clapped, and for once, Runaan indulged them, kissing Ethari enthusiastically. The cheering doubled, and Ethari spun Runaan around in his arms.

As he set Runaan down, Ethari murmured softly in his ear, just for him, under the cheers of their friends. “If we fall, my heart, we fall together.”

Runaan kissed him again and spoke against his lips. “Together.”


	2. Light and Shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethari has a secret, but now that he and Runaan are dating, it's time to show him what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a headcanon since forever that Runaan calls Ethari "my light," and Ethari calls Runaan "my shade," so I combined it with a new elven worldbuilding headcanon and spun an origin story for it, which was sparked by some soft inspiration from discord!

“Almost there,” Ethari murmured.

Runaan glanced over his shoulder. They’d walked a good four miles from the Silvergrove, and he still had no idea why, except that Ethari had something he wanted Runaan to see. Something secret and special. Something that required the light of the full Moon, which had risen an hour ago.

“Here we are.” Ethari’s voice was soft and shy. He paused, looking up, and Runaan stopped beside him.

Great ancient trees draped with thick ropes of tanglemoss surrounded them, reaching spindly fingers toward the full Moon overhead. The moonlight filtered down to the forest floor far below in misty rays that rippled with wafts of ground fog. Deep, musty shadows lurked all around the elves, full of guarded murmurs and grumpy croaks. The night was watching them. And it hadn’t yet made up its mind if it liked them.

Runaan glanced at the sturdy craftsman who had so recently danced into his life. Ethari was all softness and smiles, gentle nudges and quiet chuckles. He was nothing like Runaan, and yet he was exactly what Runaan craved. Knowing that the deepest yearnings of his heart were returned had made Runaan so happy—and relieved—that he rarely felt the ground beneath his feet these days. But he was still learning about Ethari, and his natural wariness had been trying to prepare him for some troubling secret during the whole trek out here.

“What did you want me to see, Ethari?” he asked. “This ancient grove?”

Ethari turned to him and slid his warm hand into Runaan’s as easily as breathing, interlacing their fingers. “That too, but… mostly something else.”

Runaan’s sharp gaze trailed across Ethari. The craftsman had brought nothing with him. His eyes lifted to the full Moon for a moment before landing on Ethari’s coppery gaze, holding a tentative question.

Ethari grinned eagerly. “You’re so clever, Runaan. I can’t keep anything secret from you for long. And I don’t want to. That’s why we’re out here. I want to show you something. Something… about myself.”

Runaan’s eyes widened. He traced Ethari’s cheek markings with a soft thumb. “I’m ready when you are.”

Ethari took both of Runaan’s hands and squeezed them tight. “Okay, here we go,” he said to himself. Then he let go and backed up into the center of the grove. His hands clasped each other nervously. “I only wanted to show you the once. If it’s not to your liking… I won’t do it again.”

As Ethari closed his eyes, Runaan felt a surge of concern rise in his chest. What could Ethari possibly show him that Runaan would dislike so much—

A gentle glow began to emanate from Ethari’s skin. It grew brighter, throwing its soft white light across the glade and up against the tangle of branches that crisscrossed overhead. Ethari’s markings blazed a deep purple that cut hard shadows across the luminescence of his skin. Even his clothing glowed along with him, giving off soft drops of light that flickered up toward the Moon and vanished. The sclera of his eyes darkened to black, and his hair dimmed to a medium gray. But his smile hovered, shy, tentative, waiting for Runaan to speak.

Runaan needed a moment, though. Moonshadows possessed two different magic forms, like all elves, and one was vastly more prevalent than the other. He’d only seen a moonform Moonshadow a few times in his life. And never this close, nor this fully. They tended to keep their light hidden, because Moonshadows craved privacy and secrecy, and a blazing moonform was the exact opposite of secret.

But, Runaan eagerly admitted, it was _beautiful_.

Small twitterings and flutterings drew Runaan’s attention upward. The tanglemoss that draped so heavily from the tree canopy was coming alive, drawn by Ethari’s light. The tendrils themselves began to sway and weave through the air, happily twirling in the elf’s glow. Snoozing Moon moths fluttered out from their tree nooks, fireflies drifted out of the tanglemoss in droves, and moonbats flickered and jinked around the mossy tendrils overhead, chasing the fireflies. Moonsong birds flittered around Ethari, dancing and weaving in his light, dipping the long trailing feathers from their wings to brush against his horns, his hands.

Sleepy moonflowers woke in the shadows beneath the trees and turned their faces toward the glowing elf in their midst. A deep hum that could only come from a sleeping nightserpent began vibrating through the soil beneath Runaan’s boots.

The Moonshadow Forest _adored_ Ethari. How could Runaan do any less?

Without thought, Runaan shifted into his shadowform and stepped forward, holding out his hands for Ethari’s. As his magic took hold, the world grew brighter to his eyes, and Ethari became a blazing bonfire of white moonlight. “You’re beautiful, Ethari. Why would anyone ask you to hide this side of who you are?”

Ethari slid his bright hands into Runaan’s dark ones, and their magics swirled hard, tugging and pulling against each other. “I didn’t know if you’d be able to give your trust to an elf who was the exact opposite of stealthy,” Ethari said softly.

“I don’t trust you because of your stealth,” Runaan murmured. “I trust you because of your good heart.” He cupped Ethari’s glowing cheek, and his hand seemed to seal itself there, darkness hungry for the light.

“It seems our magics like each other,” Ethari managed. His moon-bright cheeks blazed a soft pink.

“Good. I don’t plan to separate them anytime soon.” Runaan leaned in for a kiss, and Ethari’s glow met him halfway. Ethari tasted of cool moonlight and fresh night air, and Runaan slowly spun them in a swaying dance beneath the full Moon.

When moonset woke them, their Moonshadow powers had faded into quiescence, and they lay snuggled in each other’s arms beneath Runaan’s spread tunic, listening to the soft sounds of the waking forest at dawn. Their eyes met and lingered, accompanied by soft smiles and softer touches.

“Thank you for letting me be myself, Runaan,” Ethari whispered. “I guess you’ll have to put up with my usual look until next full Moon.”

Runaan propped himself up on one elbow and smiled down into Ethari’s warm eyes. With one soft fingertip, he traced Ethari’s dark brow and circled down to his cheekbone, following the lavender marking under his soft sunset-hued eye. “I love everything about the way you look, Ethari. Full Moon or not, you’ll always be my light.”

Ethari’s face broke into a broad smile, and he pulled Runaan down for a long kiss. “Your light? Ah, Runaan. Never stop calling me that.”


	3. Now is Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan has been freed from the coin, but battle called his name, and he answered, with Ethari at his side. It didn't go well.

Runaan came to first. Two decades of battle experience started screaming in his ear, and he woke with a gasp.

He immediately regretted it, as several broken ribs protested sharply. He felt like he’d been shot by half a dozen arrows all in the same breath. His hands clutched at his chest, pressing back against the broken ribs, and found them neatly bandaged with moon-traced fabric, leaving his lilac skin exposed to the cool air. His mouth tasted of blood and herbs.

Shreds of memory returned, bright and bloody enough to make Runaan shut his eyes again. “Ethari…” Whispering his husband’s name was exhausting. Runaan’s throat was dry and raspy. How long had he been out? Where was he? Where was Ethari?

Slowly, Runaan cracked open his eyes. A dim light filtered in from his right, cool and white, like moonlight through a curtain. A quiet hush surrounded him, but with a certain presence to it—the soft breathing of several others told him he wasn’t alone. His eyes adjusted to the dimness.

A cave of pale stone gleamed with filtered sunlight through sheer cloth. Medicinal herbs filled the air, and soft murmurs soothed nearby.

The healing caves near the battlefield. So it was over. And he’d survived. Again.

Runaan slowly rocked his head to the side, as if drawn by instinct. Ethari lay quietly in the cot next to him. Eyes shut. Hands resting on his stomach. Breathing easily. A series of bandages held in place by two splints decorated the length of Ethari’s right leg. A soft sound escaped Runaan’s mouth unbidden, and he tried to reach for Ethari. His hand tangled in a soft cloth sling he hadn’t realized he was wearing, and his shoulder protested mightily. Runaan winced and clutched his arm to his chest. That shoulder had been dislocated recently—Runaan would know that feeling anywhere.

But he needed to reassure himself that Ethari was truly all right. “Ethari. Ethari? Ethari, please. Can you hear me?”

Ethari hummed a soft moan and tried to roll toward him, as he had on many a morning. But as he rolled onto his injured leg, he caught himself with a pained gasp that woke him right up. His coppery eyes flew wide and searched frantically until they landed on Runaan. Ethari slumped back in relief, keeping his eyes on Runaan. Though his dark brows drew together in pain, a small fond smile smoothed the firm line of his lips. “I hear you, Runaan. I always hear you.”

Runaan struggled out of his sling and held out his hand, ignoring the straining pain that throbbed in his shoulder and chest. Ethari must’ve read the effort on his face, because he immediately clasped Runaan’s hand and supported its weight in the space between their cots.

“What happened to you?” Runaan managed. “Last I saw, you were still on your feet.”

Ethari offered a wry smile. “I got knocked off them. I’m just glad to see I still have them both.”

“I’m glad they put us side by side, at least. I’d have been in a bad way hobbling around looking for you,” Runaan whispered fondly.

Ethari’s replying smile was sad. “They found us together. I managed to get back to you before I passed out.”

Runaan’s hand managed a weak squeeze. “You always do seem to find me.”

A sassy lilt entered Ethari’s voice. “It’s part of the job description.”

“What job is that?”

“Runaan’s husband.”

Runaan grinned. “Please do not make me laugh right now. I have more than one broken rib.”

Ethari squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, my shade.”

Runaan ran his thumb over Ethari’s as their hands hung clasped in the small space between their cots. “Will you tell me how you found me?”

Ethari’s grip loosened, and he looked straight up. “I don’t know how you do it, Runaan. How you keep fighting after you see what it’s like.”

“Instinct.” But a darkness lay heavy over Runaan’s reply. “Was it bad?”

Ethari took a few breaths to gather his thoughts. He blinked rapidly and nibbled at his lip. “Yeah. It was. I never want to see you like that again.”

Runaan squeezed his hand again. “You don’t have to tell me, then. I don’t want you to relive it.”

Ethari heaved in a deep breath and let it out. Softly, he pulled his hand away.

Runaan slowly pulled his arm back and tucked it into its sling again, trying to give Ethari his space to process. War wasn’t for everyone.

But Ethari wasn’t done moving. With deliberate care, the craftsman rolled to his other side of his cot and managed to rise into a shaky stance. He hobbled slowly around to the near side of the bed until he could sit on it facing Runaan. He grimaced as he sat at an angle, pressing a hand against his thigh. “Ow. Not good for the stitches.”

Runaan wore a grimace of frustration. If he’d been able, he’d have pinned Ethari in his cot for trying such a stunt. But unfortunately, it seemed he was even more helpless than Ethari was. “Ethari, what are you doing? You shouldn’t be doing that.”

“Shush. I can hold you down with one finger. Let me do what I want. Right now I want to get you some water. It smells like it has easeroot in it, so it’ll help with the pain, too.” Ethari reached over to a small table set between their cots and poured a small glass full. He stole a gulp off the top with a cheeky grin. “So you don’t spill all over yourself. Here.” He leaned forward and held the cup out to Runaan.

Instead of taking the cup, Runaan took hold of Ethari’s wrist and guided it toward his mouth. Ethari tipped the cup against his lips, and Runaan took a grateful sip, and then a few deep gulps, draining the cup. “ _Nnnhh_. That’s better.”

“More?”

“Please.”

After a second full cup, Runaan’s throat felt much better. The throbbing in his head started to lessen, and his breathing seemed to come a little easier. His eyes rested on Ethari. “I lost sight of you on the field. That shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry. I meant to fight by your side every step of the way. To stand over you if I had to.”

Ethari grinned wryly. “In your defense, there was a giant explosion that blew us apart from each other. I knew you’d be trying to find me. But by the time I found you…” Ethari’s eyes fell to Runaan’s bandages, bright white with silvery tracings, protective spells woven into the fabric to aid in healing. He rested a hand ever so gently atop the cloth.

Runaan tried not to wince, but Ethari noticed anyway and shifted his hand, letting it hover, seeking a place to rest and reassure. But Runaan’s exposed skin was a mass of bruises and small cuts, and his shoulder was swollen and marked from its recent dislocation. “Moon and shadow, is there anywhere I can touch you that isn’t injured?”

Runaan, far more used to pain and injury than Ethari, merely smiled and tapped a finger against his lips.

Ethari’s eyes widened as he grinned at Runaan’s soft sass. “Hold that thought. I will be right with you.” He stood again, balancing with difficulty on one leg, and hobbled around to the other side of Runaan’s cot.

Runaan’s turquoise eyes tracked him alertly. “ _What_ are you doing? _Ethari_.”

Ethari eased himself down onto his good left side beside Runaan, along the very edge of his cot, and tucked himself against his husband with infinite care for them both. He rested his injured leg atop Runaan’s legs and lay his head ever so carefully on Runaan’s shoulder, taking care not to put any weight on Runaan’s bandages. Runaan eased his good arm around Ethari’s shoulders and held him tightly, wishing for all the moon that he could snuggle tight against him as they usually did, but grateful all the same for any contact he could get. Grateful that he still had a husband to hold, no matter how whole or damaged he was. Ethari was warm and reassuring, and though he smelled of battle and injury, he also smelled like home. Comfort. Love. Trust. Runaan’s fingers tightened in the fabric of Ethari’s shirt, and he pressed his forehead against Ethari’s. “My light. My sweet light.”

Ethari relaxed into their closeness for a long, cherished moment. Then he gently cupped Runaan’s cheek and pressed a delicate kiss against his lips. “As promised.”

Runaan smiled against Ethari’s lips. “That may be the most effort you’ve ever put into a kiss. And I appreciate it all the more for your sacrifice.”

At Runaan’s words, Ethari caught his eye, and his brows bent. His eyes filled with worry, and he snuggled down onto Runaan’s shoulder again. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.” Ethari murmured his words against Runaan’s skin. His fingers tightened around the far side of Runaan’s waist, pulling him against Ethari for a moment.

Runaan dropped a soft kiss against Ethari’s hair. “You didn’t, though. I’m right here.”

Ethari squeezed his eyes shut, but that only seemed to make things worse. His breath hitched, and he struggled to get it back under control. “I couldn’t find you, at first.”

Runaan went utterly still. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the story Ethari was ready to tell. “You don’t—”

“I only recognized you by your hair. Everyone was covered in so much blood. A lot of it was yours.”

Runaan spoke in a horrified whisper. “Ethari…”

But the story had begun, and Ethari couldn’t stop it now. He continued as if he hadn’t heard Runaan. “I had to drag myself over because my leg had stopped working. I pulled everyone off of you… I’ve never seen you lie so still. I thought…”

“You don’t have to say it, Ethari,” Runaan reassured him.

Ethari didn’t seem to register Runaan’s comment, but he shifted his focus anyway. “I didn’t know it was possible to hurt that much and keep on living, until I saw you like that. I held you in my arms and sat in the middle of that smoking battlefield, and… and…”

Runaan didn’t want to ask, but Ethari clearly needed to keep talking. He murmured against Ethari’s forehead, “And?”

Ethari managed an exasperated tone as he said, “And all I could think about was how I’d never get to brush your damn hair again.”

The tension lessened, and the elves shared a soft, morbid chuckle.

“But then,” Ethari continued with a sigh of relief, “You moved, and I could breathe again. I could tell your ribs were broken. You coughed up a fair bit of blood. Got it all over me, actually.”

Runaan smiled and kissed Ethari’s forehead again. “Sorry. I’ll try to keep it on the inside next time.”

Ethari’s gaze flattened. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say there would be a next time for this kind of thing.”

Runaan paused, not wanting to drag Ethari’s mood right back down again. “I… said no such thing. Please, go on.”

Ethari took a breath and gathered his thoughts. “I could tell I was losing blood, too, but you needed to be propped up to breathe, so I just leaned back on that big pile of your enemies and pulled you against me. I vaguely remember setting your thigh atop mine, hoping its weight would slow my bleeding. I…” Ethari broke off in a soft chuckle.

 _Laughter?_ “Okay, now you have to tell me,” Runaan prompted.

“Don’t get mad, but as I started to pass out, I realized our pose looked a little too intimate for a battlefield. You all draped across me, head tipped back across my shoulder, mouth open, one leg spread wide. It would’ve been hot if you hadn’t been dying.”

Runaan pressed a quick, firm kiss against Ethari’s lips. “Love and battle are not as different as you think.”

Ethari’s eyes widened. “You know it’s creepy hot when you start talking like that.”

Runaan offered him a teasing smile. “I know.”

Ethari let his fingers dance along the edge of Runaan’s bandages, low across his abdomen. The assassin tensed lightly, and Ethari traced one firm corner of his abs up under the fabric. “Not too sore?”

“N-No. I think two cups of the easeroot water was exactly the right amount.”

“Oh, yes?” Ethari’s fingers slid along Runaan’s warm skin beneath the edge of the bandage, very careful not to apply any pressure. “So this is okay?”

“ _Mmmff_. What are you doing.” Runaan’s gaze grew warmer.

Ethari’s eyes softened for a moment, and his fingers stilled. “The last thing I remember was holding you in my arms as the world went dark.”

Torn between the sensation of life and the memory of death, Runaan brushed his fingers across the back of Ethari’s hand and softly studied his husband. “I can think of worse ways to go.”

Ethari pressed his lips together in an exasperated line, and his fingers began moving again, teasing their way around Runaan’s side. “So if love and battle are so closely intertwined… is this the part where I climb on top of you in your recovery cot and hold onto my own horns?”

“ _Hgh!_ ” Runaan twitched hard at the erotic image and immediately regretted his reaction. His legs curled instinctively, jostling Ethari’s injured leg as pain lanced through his chest. “Please, my light,” he begged, “I might die happy, but that will literally kill me.”

Ethari chuckled through his own pain as he tried to press Runaan back down into a relaxed position. “I’ve never regretted making a suggestive comment faster in my life. I’m so sorry, Runaan. That one hurt us both.” His hand ghosted across Runaan’s bandages, and he pressed a soft kiss against Runaan’s jaw. “It won’t happen again.”

Runaan’s grumble of needy protestation was the cutest sound Ethari had heard him make in days. “Just give me a few days to knit up and you can have your way with me all you like.”

“A few _days_?”

“I’m a quick healer.”

“You’re an adrenaline junkie.”

“Those are not mutually exclusive.”

“No, but they are inextricably linked. Or haven’t you noticed?”

“It didn’t seem important at the time.”

“Which time?”

An apologetic smile hovered on Runaan’s lips. “Any of the times.”

Ethari shifted his injured leg with a small, pained groan of effort. “Then for our combined safety, Runaan, no one’s doing any climbing or, or, _other_ athletics, until _I’m_ healed up.”

“But how will we know if you’re healed up yet unless we test it?” Runaan murmured. His fingers traced the soft curve of Ethari’s hip.

Ethari pressed closer and let his fingers dig lightly against Runaan’s skin. “Mmmm. You make a compelling argument. But, gently. Very, _very_ gently.”

Runaan captured his lips in a slow kiss. “That gently?” he murmured.

“Perfect.”

Runaan was silent for a long while. Ethari thought he’d drifted off, and was half asleep himself, when Runaan spoke again. “Having you here with me, Ethari… It’s making me rethink everything I’ve ever done.”

Ethari tucked his hand around Runaan’s waist and squeezed ever so carefully. “What do you mean, love?”

“My soul left the battlefield alone, but you found me, and when I came back, you were here.” Runaan’s fingers drew soft, soothing circles atop Ethari’s hip. “I went from the worst moment of death to the best moment of life in a Moonshadow second. I’ll never top that, and I never want to tempt fate with this chance again.”

Ethari’s breath caught and hovered, uncertain. “Runaan… what are you saying?”

“I’m never risking this again. I’m never risking _you_ again, Ethari. I know you’ll follow me if I fight again. But I _can’t_ risk losing you.”

Ethari’s hand twitched against Runaan’s waist. “Runaan… the war is still raging. Tell me what you really mean.”

Runaan gazed up at the arch of the cavern overhead. “I’ll find another way to serve our people. But I’m hanging up my swords. Xadia will have to fight without me from now on.”

Tears of happy disbelief sprang to Ethari’s eyes, and he clutched Runaan against him so hard that his husband winced and groaned. “Sorry, so sorry, my heart. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“ _Nngh_. It is.”

Ethari tucked his face against Runaan’s neck and sobbed quietly. His hand fluttered across Runaan’s body, lighting gently against his shoulder, his cheek.

Runaan felt his husband’s chest shuddering against his own and held him as tightly as he dared. Had Ethari been holding in all these feelings all along? “I’m sorry too, my light,” he murmured. “It seems I should have done this years ago.”

“No, no, now’s good for me,” Ethari murmured. His voice was breathy with elation.

Runaan cupped Ethari’s cheek with his other hand and gently thumbed away his tears. His white brows bent as he nudged Ethari’s nose with his own, encouraging him to meet Runaan’s gaze. When Ethari’s damp eyes met his, Runaan smiled broadly. His chest would need weeks to heal, but the love that filled it so warmly in that moment made him feel weightless. “Now is good for me, too.”


	4. Lost in the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan is lost, and Ethari doesn't expect to find him.

The full Moon never called his name anymore. Had it risen yet? More than once? Runaan hated the disorientation of not being able to sense his primal source from within the magic coin where Viren had trapped him. He felt lost, disconnected, helplessly spinning out into the darkness. A coin flipped off the edge of a cliff on a moonless night. He had fallen. He was lost. There was no gleam from his soul to catch anyone’s eye.

There was only his mind, and whatever he could conjure within it.

Runaan always conjured Ethari.

Ethari sat on the edge of the ritual pool and hid his tears against his palms. The light of the full Moon cast the ritual scepter’s shadow brightly against the engraved emblem that marked the moment the Moon’s cycle would be fully complete. The shadow had mere inches to shift before it fell perfectly in line with the stone carving.

And then Ethari would have to wade into the water and fetch Runaan’s sunken heartbloom out of the pool, along with the other four. He’d have to take that cold metal in his hands and accept the reality that Runaan was truly gone.

He looked up from his tearstained hands. The Moon’s shadow inched into place. It was time.

Runaan imagined drifting on a slow and easy current, feeling the warmth of the sun against the chill of the water. Nothing to fear. Nothing to distract. Just the burble of water and that glorious weightless feeling. And then, Ethari’s hand would slide into his hair and stop him from drifting too far.

But, somehow, despite this being Runaan’s favorite illusion, Ethari’s hand never came. Runaan’s eyes opened wide with surprise. And all he could see was water.

Ethari pulled off his boots, rolled up his pants, and waded into the pool slowly, dreading his task. He found the other four assassins’ flowers first, saving Runaan’s for last. But finally, he had to circle to the other side of the pond and hunt for it with his bare toes. He moved slowly, staring at the water’s surface. His own reflection looked slumped and mournful. Tears fell from his eyes into the water, rippling the reflection, distorting the edges of him, and he stopped, burying his face in his hands again. “Runaan… You were my heart. And you always will be.”

Ethari sank to his knees in the pool, and the water rose above his waist, chilling him, soaking him through. He pressed the back of a wet wrist against his mouth to stifle his sobs.

“Runaan, I miss you _so much_.”

Ethari’s voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Runaan gasped, finding it hard to breathe despite his weightlessness. A shadow seemed to fall over him from above, and Runaan instinctively reached up.

The surface of the water resisted him, cold and strong as ice, hiding its truth about the upper world. Runaan’s heart began to race. This was no illusion of his own. Something was happening.

 _The full Moon is tonight. And Ethari is in the ritual pool._ The thought shivered through Runaan like thunder. He thrust his hands against the water’s surface, calling his husband’s name. “Ethari!”

Ethari’s breath caught as he heard the faintest of echoes calling his name. His wondering smile quickly shifted to desperation as he sought its source. “Runaan? How am I hearing you?” He leaned forward, using his own shadow to block the Moon’s rays so he could see into the pool past his own reflection.

A fine tendril of white hair drifted by. On instinct, Ethari grasped it and pulled. It didn’t quite seem to be fully present with him, but it moved as if someone was attached to it.

And then, against all of Ethari’s highest hopes, there below his own reflection floated an ethereal image of his husband. Not peaceful, not sleeping, but staring back at him in amazement and shock. With his hair tangling around Ethari’s waist and his feet out across the pond, somehow, Runaan floated just below the surface of the pool.

“Ethari?” Runaan reached up to touch his husband’s face, but the water wouldn’t let him break the surface. He flailed for Ethari’s hand in his drifting hair and felt as if he’d touched a spirit—half there, half not. But his hand locked on Ethari’s anyway. Nothing made sense to him except what these next few moments could give him.

It wouldn’t last. Ethari had begun the heartbloom collection ritual and he had to see it through. This was Runaan’s only chance to see him, possibly ever again. He pressed Ethari’s hand against his own cheek and held it there while his gaze clung to Ethari’s. The smile that split Runaan’s face was edged with pain, regret, loss, guilt, sorrow. But his heart was bursting. Ethari still lived!

Runaan still lived! How was this possible? Ethari cupped Runaan’s face in his hands and laughed through his tears. Without thinking, he leaned down toward the water’s surface and lifted Runaan up to meet him.

Their lips met where water met air, and their upside-down kiss dispelled all illusion. Runaan felt as real to him in that moment as he had during every kiss they’d ever shared.

The Moon’s shadow moved onward from the stone emblem beside the pool, and the time for Ethari’s task ran out. Runaan’s voice echoed from below the water. “Find me, my heart.” And then he was gone.

“Runaan…” Ethari tried to recapture him, but his spirit had faded from the pool. Instead, Ethari’s hands closed on something else he’d never seen before: a partially submerged heartbloom. He lifted it up out of the water with a gasp.

Its central blue-green crystal gleamed off and on slowly, and its pings rang high and true.

Ethari’s eyes widened. He took in every detail of the precious heartbloom before daring to let his eyes fall on the crystal again. Its light kept fading and returning, caught between life and death.

Ethari’s breath came swift and shallow. His fingers clutched at the heartbloom, and a pained grin strained his face so hard that he wasn’t sure if he would laugh or cry. “Runaan!” he pressed an ecstatic kiss to the glowing crystal, and then he shot to his feet and sloshed toward the edge of the pool. He cleared it in a single bound and bolted for the stairs up to his workshop, forgetting his boots by the water. With an impatient hand, he thrust open the doors and skidded into his workshop on wet feet that slapped across the floor to his workspace. At his table, he reverently set Runaan’s heartbloom down. Then he snatched half a dozen books from his bookshelf and thumped them down beside the metal flower.

As he flicked through the first few pages with damp fingers, Ethari grinned eagerly at the heartbloom that glimmered beside him. “Hold on, my heart. I heard you, and I’m going to find you! Runaan, stay strong. I’m coming to get you!”


	5. The Romance of Thermal Equilibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan runs cold. Ethari runs hot. When they're apart, they revert. But when they touch, they achieve thermal equilibrium. And they say science isn't romantic.

The forest was cold. Though summer held sway and the moonflies danced merrily beneath the tangled oaks, the forest felt cold to Runaan. With every step he took away from the Silvergrove, it grew colder. The tips of his toes tingled and ached with cold. His fingers had gone stiff half an hour ago. His arms rippled with sheets of goosebumps, prickling beneath the rankmarks Ethari had painted fresh for him the night before.

_It’s cold without you. I’m cold without you._

But his longing remained tucked safely in his heart, and his face showed only what he needed for his mission: focus, intent, objectivity. That killer instinct which made him so devastatingly good at his job.

_I can handle the cold. That’s why I’m the one who leaves. I can handle the cold because I_ am _cold._

Runaan led his team silently through the night, into the chill darkness of the mission, and let it have its way with his heart.

Ethari was so warm. Even in the deep of winter, he radiated heat like no elf Runaan had ever met. To be held in his embrace was to be warmed, whether Runaan was cold or not. But this night, he was cold. His mission was complete, and so was his reintegration ritual. With hair still damp from the bath, Runaan curled up on Ethari’s lap and relaxed into his husband’s arms.

Safe. Warm. Loved.

Runaan hadn’t said a single word since he’d come in from the cold. But he didn’t need to. Ethari knew his thoughts, his needs. And he lovingly provided Runaan with everything he needed to feel like he was welcome in the land of the living again.

Runaan nestled against Ethari’s shoulder as his husband’s powerful arms held him close. He murmured, “You warm me so well when even my heart is cold, Ethari. What do I ever do for you that could match this?”

***

The workshop was hot. Runaan had left the Silvergrove on a mission into the human kingdoms, and Ethari had nothing to occupy his thoughts, to distract him from his worries, except his work. He poured his attention into forging and hammering, working up a heavy sweat, staying up late, exhausting himself so that his mind had no energy left to fret over Runaan. He fell asleep sitting on his cube, head pillowed on his arms atop his worktable, and woke before dawn. And he was still too hot.

Riding his Shadowpaw through the Forest only soothed him a little. Every single ray of sunshine seemed to find and overheat him. He sat at home in the bath with cold water up to his nose, and prayed for a nice chilly shiver.

Without Runaan, his life was all heat and force and effort and sweat. There was no beauty without Runaan. No playfulness. No romance. His swirlies were just ordinary shapes waiting to be appreciated by that soft smile, to be noticed by those gleaming turquoise eyes.

Waiting and heat. A sticky discomfort, inside and out. With a sigh, Ethari rose from the bath and returned to his forge to craft yet another beautiful piece he couldn’t put his heart into.

Because his heart had gone out into the cold.

Runaan was delightfully cool. Ethari loved to pull his husband close and share his warmth with him. Runaan loved touching Ethari at any time, but especially when he first returned from his missions. He’d come in cold and stiff and intense, and Ethari would give him a nice long bath and wash his hair, combing it out afterward and talking lightly of whatever came to mind. Then Ethari would coax him to eat—because he often didn’t eat much on missions—wrap a soft blanket around Runaan’s shoulders, and hold him close until Runaan finally felt like talking.

Even after a warm bath and a blanket, Runaan was still cool to the touch, and Ethari wanted nothing more than to share with him the heat he’d been storing up the whole time Runaan was away. And Runaan needed nothing more than to soak up Ethari’s warmth. They couldn’t be apart for long without both of them suffering for it.

Too much heat made it hard for Ethari to think. But Runaan’s soft, gentle touches always pulled some of his heat away, leaving his mind clear and cool.

Runaan nestled against Ethari’s shoulder as his husband’s powerful arms held him close. He murmured, “You warm me so well when even my heart is cold, Ethari. What do I ever do for you that could match this?”

Ethari squeezed Runaan lightly and kissed him between his horns. “You cool me even when my heart is hot.”


	6. Total Eclipse of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runaan feels Very Misunderstood, and he and Ethari argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a metaphorical take on the prompt of Light | Shadow, but it's what came to mind, so here it is. Happy angsting. And my apologies for the super cheesy title. Didn't resist.

“Runaan, you can’t be serious.” Ethari’s spoon hovered in midair. “Things are bad enough—”

“They are,” Runaan agreed. “And this will fix them.” He spread jam across his breakfast roll and took a bite.

Ethari stared at him for a long moment, taking in his apparent contentment with his decision. “You’re serious. You already told her yes.”

“Mmhm.”

“Without discussing it with me.” Ethari’s voice was flat.

That caught Runaan’s attention. He stopped chewing and looked up, eyes soft. After a moment of contemplation, he tongued his food aside and said around it, “It’s an assassin matter, Ethari. I didn’t feel the need to consult you.”

The spoon returned to Ethari’s porridge bowl with more force than was necessary. “It’s a _Rayla_ matter, Runaan. You’re not the only one looking after her. We should have talked about this before you agreed—”

“ _I’m_ barely looking after her at all, Ethari. _You_ talk to her teachers. _You_ help her make her favorite clothes. _You_ cook all her favorite foods. What do I do for her?”

Ethari softened and reached across the nook table. “Runaan, you do plenty. You’ve taught her everything she knows about tracking, defense, fighting... Even Tiadrin’s favorite moves. And she loves you for that. I know she does.”

“Don’t speak her name in this house, Ethari.” Runaan’s eyes flared with warning ice.

Ethari froze with a pang in his heart as Runaan called him out for speaking of the ghosted. How could he just turn off his feelings for one of his best friends like that? “I… I’m sorry. It’s just so new, and it still hurts…”

Runaan picked sesame seeds off his roll with idle fingers, not looking up at Ethari anymore. “The Moon moves forward, Ethari. So must we. We’ve been over this.”

“I can’t move forward like you do, Runaan. You go too fast for me.”

Runaan’s brows drew together for a moment and his hands stilled. “We need to step together on this, Ethari. For Rayla’s sake.”

A small exhalation of pain puffed past Ethari’s lips. “Runaan, I _can’t_. It hurts too much. Please. _Please_ reconsider what you told Rayla. She’s not ready.”

Runaan sat across from him in perfect stillness. Ethari held his breath—he’d said something perfectly wrong, and now was no time to misstep. Not so soon after Lain and Tiadrin’s ghosting.

Finally, Runaan shifted into motion again. He abandoned his roll and his tea and stood from his chair. “I need to go in. They need to see me in control today.”

He started to walk away without his usual morning farewell. Without any offer to continue a difficult discussion later. Ethari’s heart shivered and squeezed. “Runaan, wait.” He rose and caught Runaan’s hand, lifting it to his lips for a firm kiss while holding Runaan’s gaze.

Those turquoise eyes were hard and guarded, but Runaan did pause and shift closer to Ethari. He leaned a wiry shoulder against Ethari’s thicker one for a warm moment and sighed. Only then did he say what Ethari needed to hear. “We will discuss this later.”

Runaan slipped away, leaving Ethari’s fingers cold.

***

Evening came. Runaan and Rayla talked late into the night while Ethari fretted, pottering about in his workshop, flitting from one project to another, never completing anything. Finally, exhaustion began to set in, and he climbed the ladder to the rooms above and insisted that Rayla get some sleep.

Runaan joined him in their bedroom a few minutes later, and they tucked themselves into bed with hesitant movements. Ethari always hated this part of their discussions, this very first part where they hadn’t touched yet, when they each thought they were right. But he reached out his arms invitingly anyway, and Runaan relaxed atop his chest with his head on Ethari’s shoulder as easily as he always did, snuggling his fingertips beneath Ethari’s far shoulder.

Ethari let his fingers play idly with Runaan’s hair as they began to talk. Surely, surely, he could bring Runaan around. It was just a matter of being soft so Runaan could relax and think with his heart as well as his head.

“How was your day, my shade?” he began.

But Runaan shook his head against Ethari’s shoulder.

Ethari hugged him reassuringly. “They were watching too closely, weren’t they?”

“Always now. It’ll be like that for a while.”

“I’m sorry. How is Rayla?”

“Focused. I’ve never seen her like this.”

“What did you talk about tonight?” Ethari asked lightly, though he already dreaded the answer.

Runaan’s voice dropped low, as if he were trying to emphasize a truth that he knew Ethari wouldn’t care for. “She’s coming in to the arena tomorrow to train with the others.”

Irritation surged in Ethari’s chest. “Runaan, we agreed this morning to discuss this tonight. You shouldn’t go making plans when you know I disagree with you, not when things are this important!”

Runaan raised his head and stared down into Ethari’s eyes. “Ethari, this is what I do. Are you questioning my leadership of the Silvergrove assassins?”

“I… Runaan… she’s fifteen. She’s too young. She’s untested in combat.” Ethari’s hands gently caressed Runaan’s cheeks, hoping to ease him back down against Ethari’s chest.

But Runaan’s eyes glittered, and he tipped his horns warily. “I was there for every moment of her training, Ethari. I know what she can handle.”

Ethari’s soft approach wasn’t working. “She’s not cut out for being an assassin, Runaan. She’s too much like Lain—”

“I asked you not to say their names.”

A tiny flame of defensive anger flared hot in Ethari’s heart. “Well, I can’t let them go as easily as you can, Runaan,” he said stubbornly.

“There was nothing _easy_ about it,” Runaan clipped. “I just have more practice at being hard enough to do whatever it takes than you do.”

Ethari’s brows drew together sharply. “Don’t you dare call me weak. Not right now. Not when you’re giving into your own need for Rayla’s love at the worst possible moment.”

Runaan backed up like a shot, kneeling beside Ethari, pulling the blanket off of Ethari’s chest with his sudden movement. “What do you mean by that?”

Ethari flexed up and leaned forward, reaching for Runaan’s tense arm with a soft hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

Runaan shrugged him off. “Tell me what you meant, Ethari. Are you calling _me_ weak?”

Ethari tightened his hand into a fist and set it in his lap. “You’re not looking at how this is making you feel, my heart. You’re withdrawn, you won’t meet my eyes very often, you’re acting on your own when you know I want to talk things through first. You know I'll try to stop you, and you're trying to head me off. And you’re right. I _am_ trying to stop you.”

A strange look passed over Runaan’s face, of disbelief and something darker—betrayal. “She needs this, Ethari—a chance to set her family’s honor right again. And I’m in the perfect position to give it to her. It’s so clearly destined to be this way. Why would you keep it from her?”

“Runaan. She _doesn’t_ need this. Not _this_. Not to be dragged to the human lands and told to kill for her parents’ sake. Not to take lives in exchange for being given honor. _She_ doesn’t need those things. But _you do_. You need her to need them.”

Runaan was retreating—Ethari could feel it. “Don’t oversimplify things, Ethari. There is much more at work here than how I want Rayla to feel about me. The King of the Dragons has been murdered. No one knows what else the humans are planning. They need to be sent a message. One they cannot misunderstand—”

“You didn’t say I was wrong.”

“What?”

Ethari took a deep breath. “I said that taking Rayla along was something _you_ needed. And you didn’t say it wasn’t. Runaan, _please_. You can complete your mission without Rayla.” His hand quested again for Runaan’s arm.

Runaan let Ethari run his hand down his arm, though he’d tensed up. “I _can_. But I _won’t_.”

“ _Please_ don’t be stubborn on this. Rayla’s too good-hearted for the work of an assassin. What if she can’t do what you ask of her?” Ethari’s hand slid up to cup Runaan’s cheek. “I don’t want her soft heart to put you all in danger. If she got anyone hurt—if she hurt _you_ —it could break her.”

“Ethari.” Runaan’s hand covered his husband’s. “With Rayla’s parents ghosted, we’re all she has. We need to be there for her, no matter what she wants. And what she wants is to avenge her parents’ honor. She came to _me_ —”

“And you should’ve told her no!”

Runaan froze in the wake of Ethari’s raised voice. His hand stiffened and fell away from Ethari’s, and his face closed down as if it had been swallowed by shadow. Ethari had rarely seen Runaan so cold, and never toward him. It chilled his heart. This was his assassin face, his work face. “It’s decided, Ethari. I lead the assassins. I assign the duty roster. I know Rayla’s skills, and I say she’s ready. I’m taking her to Katolis.”

Ethari gripped Runaan’s bare shoulder. “You know her skills, Runaan, but I know her heart. Please, listen to me—”

“I know her heart too, Ethari.” Runaan’s voice was quiet. “She loves me, and she needs what I can give her.”

“Runaan. My heart. You _don’t_ give. You take.”

Runaan’s eyes lingered on Ethari’s face for a long while before he spoke. Finally, in a faint voice he said, “I’m sorry you find so little value in my profession, my heart. I won’t trouble you for further conversation tonight.”

Ethari sat stunned and lost as Runaan slipped out of bed and padded away, headed for somewhere else to sleep. They’d never failed to resolve their issues before. That was the whole point of waiting to discuss difficult topics until they were all snuggled up. But his foolproof plan had just found its first fool, and it was Ethari.

Ethari sat up with his arms wrapped around his knees for a long time, hoping Runaan would change his mind and come back. But he didn’t. And Ethari knew better than to try to find an assassin in the shadows when he didn’t want to be found.

Runaan settled into a corner of his sparring room with his back against the wall, rested his arms atop his knees and his forehead on his arms, and felt hot tears burning his eyes. Was it so bad to give Rayla exactly what she asked for? Runaan was mostly shadow. Ethari had been his light for years, his compass, his waxing Moon. And until Rayla asked Runaan to allow her on his mission, he had always believed, deep down, that he needed Ethari’s light to be a good Moonshadow. That the light of the Moon was the best expression of Moonshadow-ness. That he had nothing truly good and decent to offer on his own. That the darkness within him was a noble sacrifice for his people, serving no better purpose than to balance the great scales of the world.

But Rayla’s request changed all that. Runaan loved Rayla so much that he would do anything she asked of him, were it within his power to do so. And finally, finally, this was something he could offer her. He was finally of use to her. Finally more than just a stand-in for her parents. Finally more than just a trainer.

Rayla had come to him—not Ethari, not anyone else— _him_ —with the deepest desire of her heart. Runaan would not say no to that show of trust, no matter what.

No matter what.

Runaan wanted so _deeply_ for this to be the way he left his mark on Rayla’s life that his very soul ached for the completion of his mission, just so he could see her smile.

Runaan swiped away his tears and hardened his heart. _I don’t need to be light. I am the shadow._


	7. First Yule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Runaan takes Ethari home for Yule.

“His Royal Highness Runaan of the Moonshadow Elves, and escort.” The seneschal’s voice rang out across the circle of raised marble that served as the entry hall into the massive feasting room. Ethari’s fingers tightened on Runaan’s as his princely boyfriend held them in a formal pose. Runaan paused for a bare moment at the top of the blue-carpeted stairs, letting them both be seen by any guests below who wished to look up. Ethari felt the tug in Runaan’s fingers and smoothly mimicked him, hoping he hadn’t looked too obvious in trying to head on down the stairs first.

The room below them was _vast_. Ethari thought he’d seen big rooms before, back in the village, but he had not. Not like this. Even the largest understump in the Silvergrove couldn’t compare to this sprawling hall.

Six long arc-shaped tables criss-crossed each other to form a snowflake-esque eating area in the very center of the hall. Serpentine crystals glowing in blue and green hung from the great lacy dome of the ceiling, interspersed with flickers of white and blue as birds and moths flitted through them, occasionally landing on soft vines that grew down from the outside roof above. The air rippled with laughter and murmurs of conversation and carried the bright twinkle of falling water on opposite ends of the great chamber. It was also pungent with aromas Ethari had never smelled before—things salty, fishy, spicy, and sweet, so unlike the traditional dishes of the Silvergrove.

The other guests swirled around the tables in an uncoordinated ring of small dances that was nonetheless beautiful for its unwieldy grace. The dances didn’t appear too complex. Ever since Runaan invited him back to the palace for Yule, Ethari had been worried that he’d appear far too backwoods to make a good match for Runaan. Especially in front of his large and powerful extended family.

“Shall we?” Runaan’s murmur pulled him out of his gaping.

Ethari shut his mouth with a quiet snap. “Sorry.”

Runaan squeezed his fingers, and they descended the carpeted steps to the main floor in perfect sync with each other.

The air cooled as they descended, and Ethari suppressed a shiver. How he could be cold while wearing so many layers baffled him. Runaan had helped him dress in formal attire worthy of being seen at an official holiday celebration at the palace, so Ethari felt confident that he fit in. Runaan had laced up his dark purple corset vest a bit loosely, “for dancing,” he said. Then had come a light, one-sleeved robe of lavender silk, with a single swooping crystal loop that rested against the silk as it strained across Ethari’s sturdy deltoid.

“I feel too… muscular in this. What if I break the crystal cord?” Ethari had murmured worriedly as he tested his range of motion.

Runaan’s response had been to smooth his fingers down Ethari’s arm, pressing it to his side again, and to reassure him that he couldn’t break the crystals. All while wearing a faint blush.

Lastly had come an asymmetrical mantle in deep navy velvet that clipped to Ethari’s corset vest on one shoulder, and then again on the opposite hip, through a high slit in the sleeveless robe’s side. Runaan settled a wide silver cuff etched with moon phases around Ethari’s bare bicep and linked it to a matching one around his wrist using a flutter of lavender silk. Then he’d smilingly tucked a gleaming moonstone belt through Ethari’s layers and buckled it in front for him before kissing his lips softly. “You’re perfect.”

Ethari adored the way Runaan looked at him in that moment, but his fluttery tummy wasn’t only from Runaan’s soft attention. He might look the part of a prince’s companion, but he had yet to open his mouth or attempt any palace rituals or traditions. Runaan had said he’d be right by his side the whole time, and Ethari was desperately clinging to the hope that he wouldn’t get called away.

Runaan smiled and tilted his horns toward him as they reached the end of the long staircase. “I know it’s out of your control, but I’m finding myself deeply appreciative of the fact that you’re exactly my height.”

“Y-you are?” Ethari looked over in surprise.

“My perfect match.” Runaan adjusted his hand and clasped Ethari’s less formally, as they always did while strolling around the Silvergrove together.

Ethari let out a big sigh and squeezed his hand hard. “Don’t let me out of your sight, my prince,” he said, only half joking. “I’d hate to start a war on accident if you abandon me for the drinks table for too long.”

Runaan chuckled and pulled him close, until they stood face to face, still holding hands. “You’re worth starting a war for, my light. But don’t worry. I won’t leave your side.” And there at the base of the steps, in full sight of everyone, Runaan took Ethari’s face in his strong fingers and kissed him. Far more than just a peck on the lips, Runaan’s kiss was warm and deep, and it made Ethari’s toes tingle.

“Hey, come up for air already,” someone said teasingly.

Ethari twitched in surprise, and Runaan let the kiss go, but he kept a hand on Ethari’s shoulder as he looked aside with a serious expression. “Riati. The Moon hasn’t claimed your soul yet, I see.”

“We both know you’re the one who’s gonna die first, Runaan,” the shorter, slender elf said, his tone cool and sharp. One of his dark horns were adorned with three rings, and he wore the same corset, robe, and mantle that Ethari had, but in light blue with teal accents. The markings across his cheeks were swirls, which Ethari appreciated, each split down the middle as marked members of the High Grove and their families.

Ethari tensed at the newcomer’s stance, but Runaan squeezed his shoulder warmly. Then Runaan and Riati grinned and threw their arms around each other, hugging tightly and chuckling. Ethari grinned and relaxed. _This must be one of Runaan’s many cousins_.

“Ethari, never play shadowknuckles with this elf,” Runaan said, as he held Riati in a loose neck hold. “He cheats.”

Riati pretended to be highly offended and elbowed Runaan lightly in the gut, causing the assassin to step back sharply with an _oof_. “A misunderstanding of the rules, I assure you,” Riati said primly, though the grin that flickered around his lips was not one that held interest in rules. “And this must be your new love, Runaan? He’s _very_ handsome.”

Ethari blushed and only barely caught himself before he ran a nervous hand through his somewhat smoothed locks.

Runaan tucked his hands behind his back in a formal pose. “Ethari, may I present Prince Riati of the Moonshadow Elves, my mother’s sister’s son, and guardian of the Wilding.”

“The Wilding?” Ethari repeated.

“All that falls outside Cousin Athara’s Balance belongs to the Wilding,” Riatia intoned, before smirking and chuckling. “My mother serves on the High Grove in the Second Ring. We’re more metaphorical than the fuddy-duddies like Runaan here, who have actual jobs.” He swatted Runaan on the arm, making his crystal swoop jingle.

“Ah,” Ethari said faintly, as he entirely failed to keep up with all of Riati’s jargon. His eyes flicked to Runaan for a quick prompt.

But Riati saw and slipped in between the other two elves, taking Ethari by the hand and pulling him close for the first few steps of the Holly Rondel. “Oh,” he murmured in Ethari’s ear, “Runaan hasn’t bored you to death with all the inner workings of the High Grove? Well, not to worry, I’ll be happ—”

Runaan reached right between the elves and freed Ethari bodily from Riati’s grasp, spinning through and pulling Ethari into the next few steps of the dance. Ethari’s lavender armscarf fluttered wildly as Runaan spun him, and Runaan’s own turquoise armscarf caught the breeze and billowed brightly. Then he paused with Ethari on the far side from Riati and turned back to his shorter cousin. “You know what happens to those who wander outside the cycle too long, Riati. They get acquainted with _me_ ,” he said lightly. “Professionally.”

Riati was far from cowed, though. He crossed his arms and pouted prettily. “I’ll claim the rest of that dance later, then. Ethari, it was a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to the High Grove, and to Moonhollow.”

“Th-Thank you,” Ethari stammered, still trying to pick up on Riati’s mercurial moods.

Runaan swept his mantle in front of him with a quick, stiff bow and a mocking tip of his horns. “I’ll see you at the table, Riati.”

“I’ll look for you, then.” Riati’s even teeth bared in a pretty smile that seemed ever so slightly threatening.

But Runaan was pulling Ethari away toward the open floor near one of the two waterfalls that fell in through the flattened dome overhead.

“Did I do something wrong?” Ethari murmured. He kept a tight grip on Runaan’s hand.

“Not at all, my light,” Runaan reassured him. “Riati is, in a word, chaos. When princes of the forest are elflings, we’re all tested to see what our inclinations are, and the strongest in each category is raised to fulfill one of the sacred duties of the Moonshadow elves, with an eye to take over from one of the High Grove someday. Usually our own parents, but sometimes it changes. Riati tested highest for Wilding.”

“What does that really mean, though?”

“It means he’s a terrible Moonshadow. But sometimes, we need terrible Moonshadows to think outside the rules.”

Ethari blinked in surprise.

“Pray take your places for the Mistletoe Circle,” the seneschal boomed.

The elves all separated and began to line up in circles of six, all the way around the vast room. Even those seated and chatting rose and swanned out to join in the dancing circles.

Ethari followed Runaan to a circle near the waterfall and stood palm to palm with him, next to two other pairs of dancers, waiting for the music to begin. Uncertain and nervous, he pressed his hand against Runaan’s and felt his palm begin to sweat. Past Runaan’s shoulder, the waterfall’s dark cascade caught his eye.

“It’s… _black_ ,” he blurted.

“The shadowfall, yes.” The music swelled from all corners of the room, and Runaan took the lead.

Ethari followed him, recognizing elements from Silvergrove dances and eagerly twirling through them with his beloved. Runaan’s mood lifted fully as Ethari threw himself into dancing with him, letting his mantle swing wide and flutter close around his legs as he spun and stepped. He let his fingers trail up Runaan’s bare arm, across his silver cuffs, across his shoulders, and down his silken sleeve, and Runaan claimed his hand and spun him through the next steps. Halfway through the dance, Ethari actually got Runaan to laugh for a moment. The way the other two dancers stared, that seemed to be a rare thing—or at least it had been when Runaan still lived at the palace. Ethari tucked his smile deep down in his heart.

The dance ended, and Runaan let Ethari spin him around an extra couple of times as the last notes died away. Runaan’s cheeks were pink with exertion, and his smile was easy and warm, and Ethari wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss him again.

“It’s not called the Mistletoe Circle for nothing, Ethari,” Runaan murmured. He captured Ethari’s hands and dropped a soft kiss on each.

“Oh, I… I don’t know this part—”

“Yes, you do.” Runaan leaned in and kissed him, smelling of silk and spice, tasting of berries and honey. His fingers interlaced with Ethari’s, and he stood right against Ethari, so close that Ethari could feel his chest heaving for breath after the dance.

Ethari _really_ couldn’t help the little whine that slipped over his tongue. He leaned his forehead against Runaan’s and panted quietly.

Runaan curled his fingers through Ethari’s. “Come on. This party’s just getting started. And I want to share every bit of it with you.”

Ethari’s grin was as wide as the forest. “Then lead on, my prince.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this got huge in my head. Might turn it into its own little fic because it hasn't even really gotten started yet. I have ideas for Moonshadow cuisine, shenanigans with Riati and Ethari, more dancing, rituals at the table, and retiring afterward for some peace and quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure I had it in me to participate in Ruthari Week, but then SOMEONE gave me a visual I couldn't resist: the neck dip. So here we are. Thanks to @thechocochick on tumblr!


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